


Too Much (and Not Enough)

by sleepyMoritz (Catherss)



Series: Claw Marks [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Backstory, Drug Addiction, M/M, Racism, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherss/pseuds/sleepyMoritz
Summary: Pivotal moments four, three, two, one years ago.





	Too Much (and Not Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Connor Brother's work, quoting Jack Kerouac; "It's all too much and not enough at the same time."
> 
> Handle some difficult topics here so let me know if I got anything wrong! As always beta read by Pogopop.
> 
> This is a sort of... prequel to Everything I've Ever Let Go Of, and isn't at all necessary for understanding anything. I actually wrote this literally months ago but I've sat on it until the series was finished because I wanted people to read the main fic first. If you're new to the series, I'd probably prefer that you read that first, even. But go do whatever!

 

**_Four Years Ago_ **

 

Luke bared his teeth at Sargent Yates, and it might’ve been a grin, grimace, or snarl, or maybe all of the above.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked the smirking cop, who stood with his hip canted, one hand on his belt, the other over his gun, a power play in the fingers with bitten nails splayed over the leather.

“Why wouldn’t I come see one of my own boys in lockup?” he retorted, pushing off the wall slowly, approaching like a predator.

“Cause you never liked me,” Luke said, having none of it. “You hated me.”

“That’s kinda unprofessional, don’t ya think?”

Luke settled back in his chair, breaking his gaze away from Yates. “You ain’t my boss.”

“Yeah, you did a pretty good job of fucking that up, didn’t you, Cage?”

He swallowed and made a gesture like _okay, so?_ “Why’re you here?”

“I just wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.” Yates came and sat down in the chair opposite to Luke, the chair scraping against the floor, his body language big and bold. He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, his face a twisted farce of something caring. “How you feelin’?”

Luke scoffed and shook his head. “I’ve been better,” he replied sharply, only humouring the other man. “And you?”

“Oh, I’ve been worse,” Yates said with a bland smile. “You know, you wouldn’t have that shiner if you hadn’t said all those things about Claymore.”

Luke resisted the urge to feel the bump he knew was there on his cheekbone, which felt hot and throbbing under deep purple skin. “Well, I wouldn't have said all those things about Claymore if they weren’t true.”

Yates leaned back in his chair, his smile lopsided, just showing a flash of crooked teeth. “Hmm. Ain’t it so unlucky that the officer you accused of such awful things would be the guy who was sent to arrest you?”

Luke stared as it sunk in. They’d sent Claymore _on purpose_ because they _knew_ he’d be rough with him. Jesus.

Yates carried on with a tighter smile. “But I suppose if a man had had all those terrible things said about him, he’d have some stress to work through, huh? Could’ve been a lot worse, Cage. You oughta remember that.”

“Yeah, I could’ve ended up dead, like Gabriel Hunt.”

Yates licked his lower lip and shook his head with a disbelieving grin, like it was Luke who was in the wrong. “That kid got what was coming to him, Cage, get it through your thick skull.”

“He was _fifteen_.”

“He was _armed_. Or, so Claymore believe - it’s not his fault the kid went for his waistband. Could’ve had anything in his pockets, and sure, he made a mistake, but Claymore was just protecting himself, as any of us has a right to. It’s unfortunate. Nothin’ more.”

Luke stared at Yates, bile rising in his throat. “You disgust me. You’re an inhumane, racist, sociopathic shell of a man who should be ashamed of himself.”

Yates looked unbothered. “Sticks and stones. Here I am, a free man, and you, Cage…” He tilted his head, eyes as blue as his old uniform bright under the harsh lights of the room. “Well, you are quite distinctly _not_.”

Luke had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to let the anger seep away. He clenched his hands, feeling his tendons tighten and his nails dig into the softer flesh of his palms. Being calm was something he could pretend to be. It was what his dad had always said to be when talking to cops. But his dad didn’t want anything to do with him now. He missed his wife desperately. “You know, if you had a problem with me, you didn’t have to ruin my goddamn life to get a point across.”

“No, but it’s more fun this way,” Yates said. “Besides, if you had a problem with us, you didn’t have to go round being so damn vocal about it.”

“I tried official means, and nothing happened. The only way change was gonna happen was if I was loud.”

Yates clicked his tongue. “You haven’t made a change though, have you? You’ve gotten yourself in jail.”

“Thanks,” Luke said, “but I was actually aware of that.”

Yates just _looked_ at him for a moment, and it was one of the most frustrating things Luke had ever experienced that it wasn’t the other way around - him with the badge and gun and respect of his peers, with this slimy piece of shit chained to the table like something dangerous. Yates was dangerous - not because of any power his body had, unlike Luke, but because he was the one with the badge. Luke’s mind couldn’t stop reeling on the fact that he thought he could make a fucking change. God, how naïve was he? What the hell could one man do?

“Well, as great as it’s been to catch up with you, Cage, I have places to be, people to protect, you know how it is.” Yates pushed away from the table and stood, that bile-raising arrogance evident from his stance to his words. “Oh, and the boys all say hello. I think Carter might actually miss you, you know.”

“Carter is a good man,” Luke said, tilting his head up defiantly to Yates, who got the hint and smirked.

“Well, I’ll see you round, Cage. Or not. I suppose that depends on how the trial goes, right?”

With that, Yates knocked to be let out of the room, and left with a last snide grin in Luke’s direction.

 

 

 

**_Three Years Ago_ **

 

Trish shoved lightly at Jessica, her pupils unsettlingly blown out. “I’m gonna go home,” she said, and she was so obviously lying that it made Jessia a little bit angry.

“You’re going to your dealer, aren’t you?”

Trish shook her head like a child. “Noooooo.”

“Don’t fucking lie.”

“I’m not,” Trish insisted. She had a hand on Jessica’s arm, her perfectly manicured nails just scraping on her bare skin. “Listen, gotta love you and leave you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“If you’re going home, I’ll see you tonight.”

Trish just squeezed her arm, like Jessica was doing some sort of favour for her, giving her that fake, for-the-media smile that she gave their mother when she said that everything was alright. And it was shit. It was fucking shit. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she motioned for her gaggle of friends to follow her, and they left the bar, leaving Jessica alone on her stool, sipping a whiskey and feeling alone.

And then the man sidled up to Jessica with a cocky little smirk that made her heart pick up a notch.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, his accent that posh sort of English that movie stars had, and, okay, Jessica was not one for accents usually, but _this_ guy. This _guy_. He was wearing a smart purple blazer and his dark eyes had a sharp glitter in them - he was suave, rich-looking, confident in his skin. Maybe a little bit older than who she usually went for, but eh. Good enough.

Jessica smiled and downed her drink. “Well, nothing at the moment.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” the man said and hailed down the bartender, handed over a bill. “Another for this lady, and a gin and tonic for me, please.”

“Gin and tonic?” Jessica asked teasingly. Her heart wasn’t in it, but it could be. The night was young and at least she didn’t have to play babysitter to her sister anymore.

“Well, we do become our parents,” he replied easily. “I’m Kilgrave.”

Jessica rose an eyebrow at him. “Is that your real name?”

He tilted his head. “It’s what they call me,” he said, as a way of an answer.

“That’ll have to do then, I suppose. Jessica Jones,” she said.

He held out his hand and they shook, the warmth of his nice hands (nice _hands?_ Jesus, Jessica, get it together) sending warmth down into her guts. “Charmed.”

“I didn’t realise British people actually said that.”

“We like to break it out on special occasions.” The bartender put their drinks down in front of them. Jess took a sip of hers and Kilgrave pushed his towards her. “Go on, give it a try.”

She sideglanced him but did as he suggested, taking a sip. She immediately grimaced and spluttered, taking a swig of her own drink to wash down the taste. “That’s disgusting,” she informed him.

He took an easy sip and chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste. Do you live in the city?”

“Yeah, I do. I live with my sister. What about you?”

“I’m new to Manhattan,” he said. “I haven’t had much time to look round it yet, though.”

Jess bit her lip, wondering what she was doing. Fuck drinking - why did she ever think it was a good idea? “Well, maybe I could show you around?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to--”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” She pushed her hair out of her face and looked at him. He broke into a grin that, well, it might’ve just been the drink, but was _charming_ , and she was _charmed_ , and so, so fucked. And if she was going to be fucked, it might as well be by him.

“Well, then, yes. I’d be delighted.”

 

 

 

**_Two Years Ago_ **

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt--” Foggy said, sounding utterly heartbroken and destroyed and Matt wanted to curl up into a ball and snort some dope and never fucking wake up again. “You sold my _laptop?_ ”

“I’ll pay you back,” he said weakly.

Foggy made a animal noise of frustration and Matt heard him smack something, maybe the wall. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I know.”

The sound of his voice rounded on Matt. Foggy was facing him now. “I can’t fucking take this anymore. You-- you’re fucking drifting, you’re _lost_ , Matt, how can you not see that you’re in danger?”

“I’m not,” he insisted.

Foggy’s voice was up in front of him now. “You are!” he yelled. “You’re going to fucking die of an overdose at twenty five in a fucking ditch in fucking-- _New Jersey_ and I’m not going to be able to stop it!”

Matt curled up into himself, wrapping his bony arms around skinny legs, resting his chin on his kneecaps. He used to be a good weight, but now all he could feel was his hip bones and ribs and clavicle, all of them heaving up through numb skin. His skeleton wanted out of his fucked up body, and Matt wanted out of this Goddamn room. “This isn’t on you, Foggy.”

“I know it isn’t!” he howled, backing away into their tiny little apartment, rented until they could find something better, once they’d gotten a real job in the big city. “This is you! You’re the addict! But you have this-- this-- this _way_ of sucking people into your issues, your problems, and I can’t help you, you get that? I can’t fucking _help_ you.”

Foggy’s voice broke towards the end of that, cracking over _help_ like it was the first time he’d really realised that, or thought of it in such crystal clear terms. And Matt knew it was true.

“I don’t want to be helped,” Matt said. That was true, too. He didn't need helping.

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” he hissed. “You can’t accept help, and you won’t ask for it.”

Matt licked his dry, chapped lips and buried his nose between his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” and though it felt like it would be true in the future, it fell out because it felt like the right thing to regurgitate, the right thing to stop this fucking _yelling_.

Matt heard sliding skin-on-skin - maybe Foggy was rubbing his face, or his arms. “I can’t take this.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated thinly.

“Are you?”

Matt didn’t reply, his heart constricting in his chest. No, he wasn't, because at least now he was high. Foggy let out his air through his teeth angrily.

“When are you going to stop taking pills?”

Matt’s silence was clear: _Never_. He was never going to stop taking them; God, Foggy didn't even know about the dope. He just thought all of this was fucking--  _Oxy._

“Get the fuck out of this apartment, Matt. I mean it. Get your fucking act together or get out.”

“What? Where will I go?”

“Fucked if I know, but you’re not staying around my shit just to sell it. I needed that laptop, Matt. I can’t believe you’d do this - you’re supposed to be my _best friend_.”

And that - that stung. Matt knew he was an asshole who didn’t deserve anything nice, but he’d always taken comfort in the idea that _Foggy_ didn’t think that, and Foggy was usually a good judge of if someone was a dick or not. “I am your best friend.”

“Best friends don’t sell shit that doesn’t belong to them,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Matt said miserably. He stood, forcing his ancient body to move, feeling lethargic and slow and like a resurrected corpse. He was starting to get comedowns, and he was starting to hurt, in his heart and limbs. “I’ll leave. You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t,” Foggy said. “I really don't, Matt.”

Matt began gathering his things, his worldly possessions, and thought about where he could go. His dealer would probably let him stay, and he knew a few other druggies who barely cared who came and went from their houses. The future looked uncertain for him, but that wasn’t the pressing issue. No, the pressing issue was when he was next gonna be able to get some more dope to soothe his jitters and make his mind right again.

 

 

 

**_One Year Ago_ **

 

Danny swanned into the apartment that stank of weed with a wide and happy grin. Inside, a party was well underway, a throng of people dancing to loud hip hop, or sitting on any available surface with pleased, spaced-out smiles. God, he loved parties like this - everyone so happy and chill and hardly ever any drunken rowdy fights. Nah, he liked to take it slow.

“My man!” said Eddy from the couch, standing up and greeting him with a quick hug, smelling of cigarettes and sharp cologne. “How ya doing?”

“I’m doing good, Eddy. How’re you?”

“Getting by, getting by,” he said with a smile. “So, what can I get for you?”

Danny went into the kitchen to help himself to some water since he’d been there a billion times and Eddy didn’t mind it when you got what you wanted, but almost tripped up on a guy sitting on the floor, who looked like he was either asleep or on something good. “Who’s this guy?”

“Oh, that’s Matt. Don’t worry about him, he’s fine.”

He got a glass and filled it with water from the pitcher in the fridge as he spoke. “I’m going to Tokyo in a couple days, and I wanted some LSD or MDMA. Something discreet that I can take through customs.”

“Right on,” Eddy said, disappearing back into his living room. Danny looked down at the guy on the floor, who was obviously _very_ fucked. He wondered what he was on, then noticed the needle on the ground and the spotted bruising up his forearm, the sleeve still rolled up and the red makeshift torquinet still wrapped around his arm. Danny hesitated for a moment, then untied the scarf, which was already loose enough that it wouldn’t be cutting off circulation and slapped the guy’s face lightly a couple times. Better safe than sorry.

His eyes fluttered open, looking super spaced out and glazed over, his eyes flicking left and right then settling on nothing at some middle distance. “What--?” His voice was barely audible over the music.

“I’m just undoing your tie, man.”

“Right,” he said, eyes rolling shut. “ _Fuuuuuck_ ,” he groaned.

“You doing okay there? Don’t need to break out the Narcan or anything?”

“Nope,” he sighed, voice slow and slurred. “Just good shit.”

When Eddy came back in, Danny straightened up and said, “I didn’t know you sold dope, man.”

“I don’t, generally, but a buddy of mine got a good deal on some and wanted to hand it off to someone else cause-- I don’t know, somethin’ to do with the cops.”

“Huh,” he said. “Well, what you got?”

Danny ended up buying a handful of pills and a few tabs of LSD, so he could share them round at the Tokyo party, but ended up taking a dose of Molly there and then because why the fuck not? He danced for a while with the rest of the partygoers after it kicked in, feeling connected and _amazing_ , and probably hugged Eddy about a million times, but ended up back in the kitchen where that dude was _still there_ , just lazing about.

He plonked down next to him, wiping his hands on his jeans when they touched the dirty floor. Their shoulders brushed and Danny loved it, wanted to press in further, wanted to _touch_ someone right now. Molly really brought out the touch-starved in him.

“Who’s that?” the guy - Matt, Danny remembered - asked.

“Danny,” he said. “I’m Danny. I spoke to you before.”

“Oh. Right.” His eyes opened again, still looking kind of spaced out. “I’m Matt.”

“Are you alright, dude? Your eyes… ha, they look sort of - fucked.”

“I’m blind,” he said with a small grin. “So that’s probably not helping.”

“Holy shit, no fucking way!” Danny sat up to look at the guy’s eyes more closely, and, yeah, they didn’t track his movement or meet his. They were also contracted as hell, tiny little pinprick pupils despite the dim room. Not that it’d matter how bright it was. “Whoa, that’s crazy. I don’t think I’ve ever met a blind person before.”

Matt tilted his head and grinned. “What’re you on?”

“Molly,” Danny sighed, settling back against the cupboard. “I love it.”

“I prefer heroin.”

“Well, duh, cause you’re a smackhead.”

Matt threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck, you’re right, I am. I’m not-- not usually this bad,” he insisted, slurring. “I’m, uh, just. It’s a Friday?”

“Long day at the office?”

“I just - just lost my job. I think they figured out that I’m a, a fucking, a fucking dope fiend.” He then laughed, a snarl of a smile, eyes closed for a beat.

“Probably,” Danny said. “Fuckers.”

Matt chuckled then sighed. “Gonna have to steal again, I guess. You can, uh, you can - steal anything, if you buy something else at the same time. Swap barcodes.”

“Sure,” Danny giggled and rested his head on the his bony shoulder. “You’re really warm,” drifted out of his mouth.

“So are you,” Matt sighed.

They sat like that for a while, just listening to the party and taking a moment. A couple people wandered in, chatting shit, and they both listened to the conversation, laughing quietly at the nonsensical stuff coming out of strangers’ mouths. Mindlessly, Danny nosed into Matt's hair that looked as if it’d been shorn then grown out again, styleless and thick, enjoying the texture and clean smell as he drifted down from his peak. Must’ve been shoved into a shower some point recently, he mused, since smackheads weren’t really known for their stellar hygiene, though this guy seemed pretty high functioning. Probably Eddy, who looked out for you when you were too high or having a bad trip, since he was a good guy like that. Matt sucked in a sharp little breath and Danny’s heart sped up for a moment.

“This okay?” Danny mumbled.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

Danny kissed him just above his ear, then by his eye.

“Is that?”

“Y-- uh… Yeah…”

Matt turned to face him, their noses bumping together, his eyes hooded, and leant in. Their lips met in the middle, a sloppy kiss with teeth and tongue that was somehow felt chaste despite of it; unhurried, unheated, uncoordinated. More of a _oh, this is happening now_ type thing. He wasn’t even really that attracted to the guy - he was too gaunt and unhealthy, but he was there, and that was good enough when he was rolling. The combined effort of that cut the kiss shorter than Danny would’ve liked, who was just enjoying the feeling of skin against skin and warmth against his own.

“I don’t normally kiss strangers,” Danny said after a moment, settling back comfortably onto Matt’s shoulder.

“I don’t normally kiss guys,” Matt said with a sigh.

Danny wrapped an arm around Matt’s shoulder and huffed. “Guess we’re both acting out tonight, then. Hey, have you ever tried acid?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and concrit very welcome. As always you can find [me on tumblr](http://sleepymoritz.tumblr.com/).


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